


Don't wake the lion

by libelula



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Assassination, Football, Multi, Mutiny, Revenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-25 12:26:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/libelula/pseuds/libelula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finally Florentino Pérez seems pleased with his new team of big stars... But he has undervalued the costs of his newest transfer. This is what happens, when you feel too poised, because the bubble is ready to pop!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The sum of one day

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really angry with Florentino Pérez (although I know it's ridiculous!) In one day he has just vanished all my motivation for my other storyline and now, I don't believe, I can finish it! As a revenge on him, I'm going to make the only thing I can... I'm going to get him really troubled in this new story (I know, this is ridiculous too!)  
> I was writing all morning I didn't even read my text twice, so be sure, there will be plenty of misspelling... (Just blame Pérez) And at least leave a comment, if you want me to go on with this one... Don't leave me alone with my angry/weird mood. (Yes, I am ridiculous!)

„But I don’t want to go to England!“ The Young man in the office was close to tears and even his father was surprised by his sudden dourness. Mesut had always been a good boy, kind and silent and when it came to his father obidient. Mustapha sighed. “Look, I’ll explain again. Your chances are much better there. You earn more money, you get to play every game, the tactics will be formed around you...” “But it will rain...” It was a sad attempt. The huge, dark eyes searched for something to rest, for someone to comfort, but all he found was callousness. He stared at the men in front of him. The manager, who had welcomed him so cordially, the new coach, who had given no doubt, he wasn’t needed any longer, now they had two new toys and his confidant... at least he had thought this former star was his friend... He had trusted him, but now he just stared back expressionlessly.  
“I need some air!” The kid jumped on his feet so fast his chair fell over. He didn’t bother to lift it up. “It’s only half an hour left.” Florentino Pérez leaned foreward. “You have to force him! The press has already got it, so there is no way back. He cannot stay!” Mustapha shook his head. He had never seen his youngest son so desperated. He knew, it wouldn’t be easy, to convince the boy, Mesut was shy and never good with changes of any kind, but he hadn’t expected this situation. “You have ten minutes!” And pushing a button on his phone he called for his secretary, to send in the new one, who was waiting patiently outside. But there was surprise comming along for the manager. Not one minutes after the English boy had sheken hands with them, the door flew open with a loud crash. “What do you think, you’re doing? Is this a closing sale? I told you once and I tell you twice, I won’t stay, if you go on like this! Just tell me what you plan next, dismiss the complete defence? I won’t stay anothe night in this rotten whole! If you think a team can function like this, you should have done a practical training first! You will not have any profit on me -piss on my contrcat- I’m done with you...!” The boss had waited for the tall athlete in front of his desk, to give him a break. The moment he breathed, the older man interacted. “Cristiano? Have you met your new teammate? This is Gareth.” The Portuguese knew, he acted like an asshole, but he was so raging, he couldn’t stop, although he knew, this boy, that looked like an abandoned puppy up to him, was absolutely not guilty of the events of the last two days. “He’s not my mate and don’t dare to think I will take care of him. If you want him to be safe and nice, put him up your nasty, fat...”  
“It’s done!” Mustapha rushed into the office waving the signed contract. The door had still been open, so he hadn’t even knocked. Now, that he stood right in front of the steaming, tall striker, he felt it hadn’t been the best idea. The tan guy was huge and looked dangerous. But as he turned to the new arrival his features softened a little. “Well, done! I congratulate you for saving your son from this nuthouse. Make sure he’s sent away as fast as possible. And tell him, the rest of us is ready to follow as soon as possible, I guess in the winter break...” “Thank you, Herr Özil. It’s been a pleasure.” And with these words the man was pushed outside and the door closed fast behind him.  
”And now back to business. Cristiano, you know, you always had some sorts of special terms and I promise, you don’t have to fear for that.” The Portuguese lifted his chin, his jaws pressed hard together. “Your still the world’s most expensive tranfere and player, you’re still our big star, you are beyond doubts...” “You didn’t get it! It’s not about me! Do you really think, I’m this vain?! This whole construction won’t work. Tell me who will give the passes?” “Well, we do have Luka and Isco and...” “Fuck it! Luka has not the ability to enchant the masses, he’s a worker in the midfield not an artist and Isco is the most immature person I’ve ever met. He could be fantastic in four or five years, but before this the presure you put on him, will have broke him. If you want to erase evera trace Mourinho had left, you could poison half of the team... Just start with Iker, I’m really curious, how the fans will react, when he takes his leave in winter...” “Cristiano I am really a very patient man and I think, I got your point, but now is the right time to calm down and leave, NOW!” Again, the Portuguese raised his chin. “Your last words?” “Go now, sleep, have a shower or just lift weights, if it helps.” The younger man nodded. “So you chose war.” And right before he left, he turend one more time to the shivering English boy in front of the desk. “Welcome to your worse nightmare. I’ll make this hell to everybody and espacially you, bastard. You will love your new teammates, especially Sergio can be a pest, when he’s in love and left!” There it was, the bomb. The truth. Sergio could be like a terror-commando, if he was unsatisfied and the defender was already pissed off, because of the goal keeper situation and ready to start a mutiny. But the biggest problem with Sergio was the way, the press and the fans, even the opposing ones, liked him. With his wide, beaming grin and his loose tongue the Sevillian would get away with murder.

“He’s asleep, but I don’t think, it will be as easy as the last time.” Mustapha was happy to have his eldest son along. He had always been the stronger one, confident and... Well, just the way the small German Turk had wished his son to be. Of course he loved his youngest, too, BUT! He felt guilty, there was a ‘but’ in this sentence, but Mesut was too soft for the business, insecure and afraid of everything. Secretly Mustapha blamed his wife for having pampered the boy too much. Still, he was proud, what his son had reached. And still, he shared the feeling, that this transfer was forced in an unpleasant way. He remembered very well, how long they had talked Mesut to go to Bremen, and how freaked out the kid had been, when he found, ha hadn’t signed an extension of his contract, but an contract with the biggest club in football. Now they would move on, and he knew, that this meant trouble. When Mesut had reached Madrid, one of his cousins had to stay with him. Not to make sure, Mesut behaved, but to keep him from falling asleep at every moment. Serdar had to turn up the volume to the max and keep his cousin busy all day... And Mustapha was sure, it would be the same drama in England. His youngest had been suffering of this form of narcolepsy for quite some time. Whenever the stresslevel turned too high, he escaped snoring. Doctors had told them it was all psychosomatic and he had been doing so well for some time, but during the last season, it had all been coming back and Mustapha had to admit he was a little relieved, he would have his fragile child away from this glamour world, he never really fit in. He turned back to Mutlu. “Have you phoned this tall guy, he used to be friend with in Bremen, what was his name?” “Yes, Per seemed worried, asked me three times if Mes was in a solid condition or if he should be prepared for the worst.” “What did you tell him?” “I said, he was still a little confused and it all went very fast.” “Good, we have to get him there in a proper state...” But all these hopes were busted, when Mesut did something, he had never done before. Sleeping, when he was troubled was an escape automatism, his brain started, to prevent him from thinking and normally he laid back immediatly calm and softly smiling, but today he started shivering and whimpering against his brother’s shoulder. There was no way to deny, Real Madrid’s former number ten had just turned into a nervous wreck. And again, Mustapha cursed silently, why this fragile boy and not his strong firstborn was gifted with the talent to take part in this devil’s circus. He had feared his son might get broken in this tough business one day, and now he seemed so close to the edge. He felt like he had failed as a father, he should have protected this boy, he found himself repeating the accusations, his wife had told him for years now. Had he really screwed it up? Was this boy too weak for the business? No, at least he was his son. And he was not ready, to give in, yet. Maybe all the kid needed was someone to give him a good dressing down and then he would brace himself, for sure...

“What do you mean, he’s already gone?” Sergio stared at Karim. “I said, I went to his place, and the flat is empty!” “How did you get in?” “Extrakey!” “Why do you have an extrakey, and I don’t?” “Because he is my best friend and I neer tried to kiss him... Well, I thought he was my best friend.” The Frenshman sniffed. “I didn’t try to kiss him, I was close to have him!” Sergio still didn’t believe his ears. “He cannot disappear on the spur of the moment. You know, he was a little nervous for the last days, but he seemed better today.” “Hey guys! Seen the latest news? Got rid of some more burden today... And finally Gareth is here, I just met him, he’s a darling and...” The poor Spanish midfielder had no idea, what he just done, neither he could foresee, what to come next. While Sergio left the room immediatly, rushing upstairs to have a nice little talk with his boss, Karim broke Isco’s nose with one strike. Later on the Frenshman would be very sorry for his rude behaviour, but for now, it felt good to let his emotions flow.  
Sergio would have done something very stupid (again), if he hadn’t crashed into Pepe. “Watch out! You... What’s wrong with you?” The Spaniard’s anger had not disappeared, but finding the broad Portuguese centre back, leaning shivering against the staircase’s wall made him hesitate. “I... It’s... Cris looked like he’s ready to kill someone. He screamed at me, he had never done that before, he behaved like he lost his mind and he looked like he won’t survive this night!” Sergio’s jar dropped. “What do you mean?” “His skin looked like ashes and his eyes were so red, like every capillary had burst.” “Did he come from up there” Pepe followed Sergio’s pointed finger with his eyes before he nodded very slowly. “Then I guess, Karim was right and Iker wrong. It’s not good to wait like a sheep for the butcher to come... I’m going to war, what about you? Want to join me?” “Yes, I guess, Cris needs help. Let’s find Marcelo, we need every head for conspiration we can get...”  
Álvaro pulled Karim away from Isco. He was sure, the Frenshman was strong enough, to cause a severe injury And he didn’t want any of his friends to be in trouble. “What the fuck are you doing? Is it about a girl? She’s not worth it!” Both man stare at the tall Spanish striker. “What girl?” Karim was really baffled. Isco chuckled amused rubbing his bleeding nose. “Well, kind of a girl. Haven’t you heard? Gareth is here!” “It was hard not to hear that:” àlvaro sighed. “So what?” “Well, let’s say he was expensive and now the offence is quite a little crowded... So the boss asked the coach, if he liked Ángel or Mesut better as a substitute. And guess what, he dissmissed the German!” “Do you think this is funny?” Álvaro didn’t trust his ears. He had talked to Mesut that morning and the guy had made it clear, he didn’t want to leave Madrid... Although the playmaker was still hard to understand sometimes... But álvaro was sure, he got that one right and if Mesut had left now, it was definitly against his will! He turned on his heels and started running to the one person he trusted, when it came to the club’s politics. “IKER!  
He found the goal keeper in the cafeteria having a late cup of tea with Xabi and the moment he saw the men’s worried faces he realised, that it was quite strange, all of the guys being still at the club house in the middle of the night! “IKERIscosaidMesutwasabouttoleaveandKarimispunshinghiminthefaceandIthinkSergioisplanningsomething...!” The older men shared a look. “Come here and have a cup of tea.” Xabi had brought this habbit from England. Whenever the world starts to explode, have some tea! But Álvarohad to admit, he liked the brew, so he sat down and grabbed a cup. “Kid,” Iker stared. “This might turn out bad. I guess, we’re going to have a storm at our front door and maybe it’s good, Mesut escaped through the back door, before it started.” “Bwha?” “Let’s say, someone has mede a misstake, by leaning to far out of the window, because he thought he owns ths place and everything that’s clung to it.” Xabi’s words weren’t less cryptic to the young striker at all, but the warmth of the tea and the comforting quietude both men radiated made him relax a little and so he just dared to ask the next question, that popped into his mind and that changed the mood completely “Has someone talked to Sami about this?”  
It took them nearly an hour to find the tall German. To their surprise, he was at home. And drunk as a skunk. “Why didn’t he say a word... He just didn’t say a word...” Was all the guy murmured, when Xabi and Iker had put him to bed. “So what’s this night’s sum?” The Basque looked at his captain, who checked his email for the last time. “A lost child, off to England, a drunke big brother, a broken nose, a screaming and ready-to-kill-everybody-who-dares-to-disturb-me-egomaniac, a conspiring Sevillan weirdo, I guess heart-broken, a complete clueless newbie and a high-nosed/nosebroken playmaker.” “Not bad for one night...” “But do you know what’s worst? We have to get through this without our master of Zen, who’s already arrived happily in Italy!”


	2. International break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a chance to get some distance. But how to use it, if you cannot forget... or if anger eats you from the inside!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still frustrated! But writing helps... Please tell me, what you think about it and if you find any misspelling... blame Pérez! Thank you for your comments by now, you keep me going on!

„But it’s the best news I had for… for... longer than I like to wait for good news! Come on, he will be fine here, we’ll take care, he’ll love the city and the fans will love him, they already do and...” “Lukas please! He’s in a state of shock, you know so little about him. I guess, it’s no use telling you to leave him be, but I’m asking you to give him time to get back on solid ground. You know how little confident he is and this transfer was more like a trow out, like ‘get off, we don’t want you any longer’...” “Per! Are you nuts? He’s the dearest darling I know, who could do this to such a cutie. If you are true, I will go to Spain myself and kill the person responsable!” “Just give him time to rearrange, if you want to help, take it slow, don’t move to fast and let him catch up. And now back to my first question: Why are you comming to the international break again?” “I thought, you guys might need someone to cheer you up! Oh, and I have a date with the doctor.”

Iker and Xabi didn’t feel comfortable, placing the tall German midfielder in a plane to Munich. Sami was in a more than pittyfull state and Xabi even suggested to go with him, but Iker was sure, their team mate needed a moment of peace and silence to come back to his senses. Sami was a reliable person, someone you can trust to act reasonable, although he was a bit confused at this time. He would be fine, if he managed to get along with Mesut at Munich. Well, this will be the difficult part.  
Iker himself had to get moving, if he wasn’t to miss his flight to Finnland. Still, he had high hopes in this trip. He wished to play again and he had to interrogate Sergio, cause the defender was planning something and –no doubts- it did mean trouble. Maybe an old flame, Sergio’s kryptonite, could be of use... But it meant playing with fire. Nando was a brainiac and his favourite hobby was intrigue. This pretty, freckled striker, was always ready to kill someone verbally. Iker was not sure, if his time in England had increased the ability of insulting somebody, without the person noticing or if it was just the general practise that made Nando’s tongue sharper than a katana. Finally the goal keeper decided to try his luck without Fernando. It was to dangerous, to get the former blonde shell involved, when Sergio was up to getting himself into real trouble. In the plane he used the first ocassion he got. “Hey, how are you?” “HA!” The defender’s voice seemed a bit too loud, his smile too wide and to his surprise, Iker found Sergio’s knuckles white, holding to the armrests. “You know, me... I’m always good!” Much too enthusiastic. “Well, you seem a little overmotivated to me.” “Huh? Come on, Iker! It’s just the thrill of meeting all of our team mates again and I’m looking so forward for the game, can’t wait for it!” Iker felt the movement behind his back, before a slender Hand with long fingers reached over Sergio’s seat back, slender arms pulling a fine shaped body up very slowly and finally a light brown tuft appeared. “If you think, your voice can make this plane crash, your wrong. Stop screaming!” The dark eyes, that promised a temper like a double shot of espresso glistened. Sergio jumped on his feet, like he was surprised to find the person behind himself. “NANDO! I MISSED YOU SOOOO MUCH! DON’T YOU THINK WE’RE GOING TO HAVE AN AMAZING TIME!” The striker closed his eyes very slowly and breathed out strepitous. “No, I don’t think it’s fun, having you shouting at me.” Iker cursed inwardly. He hated these ‘discussions’ between those two, because they always ended up the same way. All of them knew it. As soon as they reached the hotel, both would disappear into their room, getting rid of their tension in a way, that had to be a secret, but was much too obvious to stay one forever. The goal keeper was just about getting up and go to sit down next to Cesc, when Sergio surprised the complete team with an unpredictable demand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you... I... I promise not to bother your nerves for this complete trip again. What about me sharing a room with Iker this time?” And he turned his big,sad eyes to his captain, who couldn’t believe his ears. For the first time, Sergio was not taking the chance of getting close to Fernando or any of the younger players, he called delicous to provocate the goal keeper. And suddenly Iker noticed one thing, he didn’t want to see, the reason, why Sergio had held the armrest so tightly. The defender’s hand were shaking.

“I guess, I’m going to kill these guys!” Oliver shook his head. “Do you think, it is a big conspiracy against German football, because of the last Champions League?” Jogi snorted. “At least he survived this interview. How many takes did it take to shoot it?” “Fourteen! He lost the plot five times, just didn’t answer three times and fell asleep twice. The rest was his usual stammering and gibberish, when he rushes through the different languages. It’s a pitty. Are you going to let him play?” “I think, it would do him good, but I wanted to talk to the doctor first... and Philipp and Sami. But I’ve phoned Sami, before boarding and he seemed a bit, well, out of order...” “What?” “He was as surprised as everybody else...” Oliver tilted his head and raised one eyebrow. Joachim had to correct himself. “I know... not EVERYBODY. You said, it would end this way, but you are a vile, confirmed pessimist.” “Not everybody is blessed with the goodnatured naiveté like my favourite coach and his favourite playmaker. By the way, I think it could have been worse. Per will be in charge of Mesut now and Lukas can cheer him up...” “You don’t trust Lukas!” The door slammed behind two new arrivals. Thomas and Philipp took a seat with their coach and the team manager. The smaller man rolled his eyes over and over again. “Thomas is still a bit traumatized by Poldi.“ He faked a sad smile, trying to convince the older men, the midfielder had made a joke. “Pah! If you want to know the truth about this boldhead, ask Basti! He can tell!” “Boys, please! We’re not here to argue about old stories... Not again!” “How is the kid? I read the news this morning and he looked horrified...” “He’ll need all the support, we have. Make sure, he’s not disturbed and for God’s sake, Thomas, make sure, he won’t fall asleep on the pitch!” “Don’t tell me, he started this bad habit again!” “I’m happy, he was pulled back onto his feet fast enough after the game against Italy” Oliver sighed. “Who’s going to be at the press conferrence, Oliver?” Philipp was back to business. “Let’s see, how Sami can cope and I’m going to do the rest, but I’m not happy to pair them in one hotel room...” “I thought about Per, Mesut must get used to him again, but I’m not sure Per can stand him as long as he’s this depressed” The coach suggested. “Philipp can handle the big one and I take care of the baby!” The four men spun around, staring at the new arrival, none of them had noticed. “You should be more careful with your secret conspiracy meetings. BUT never mind, as long as Thomas is with you, the team will be kept in the loop perfectly.” Under normal circumstances the young Bavarian would have punshed the guy behind them, but the case was special and thise man was above reproach. Joachim let go a breath, he didn’t know he was holding back. “I’m... We’re happy, you’re here, Miro.”

“He hasn’t spoken one single word?” Pepe nodded at his coach. “Yes, he’s mute for more than 24 hours by now, but I guess, he had phoned the hotel. You said, he has ordered a single room?” “He has never done this before, although, you know, he could have done... And they told me, he sent an email.” Paulo Bento closed his eyes for a moment. “We need him. Without him, this is going to be a disaster and you know, we’re not on our way to Brazil already.” The defender looked helpless at the older man. “But what am I supposed to do? I talked to his sister and mother and he didn’t speak to them either, nor did he had one glance for his son...” “O.k. that’s it! He’ll see one of the doctors, maybe it’s JUST a desease...” But the examination didn’t help. The striker was physically in a good state, although he seemed a bit tired and tensed, but no need to worry...  
As the team found it’s way to the bright conferrence room of their hotel, Fábio was nervous, cause something felt completely wrong. And he could swear, the temperature dropped the moment their captain entered. He was like a big, dangerous ice block. They watched some videos from former games of the Northern Irish national team and learned the first lessons about their upcomming tactics. As usual Bento turned to the team after his speach with his closing question. “Anyone anything to tell?” And he could see the panic in Fábio’s eyes, Pepe shaking his head, like it could make a change, João getting goosebubs on his forearms and even he himself felt cold sweat running down his spine, when Cristiano lifted his right hand in slowmotion. The striker’s voice was so calm and quiet, it made the effect worse. “I would just like to put something straight. I want to win this one. And I’m not going to let one of you, ruining this. So if any of you idiot’s doesn’t work his ass off, I’m going to rip him into exactly twelve pieces in public.” And with these words, he left the room, not rushing out, but opening the door carefully and closing it silently behind him, leaving his team mates and the coaches shocked.

Karim felt better already. His head was resting on the other man’s shoulder and it was good to say out things loud. “It’s not fair! I hadn’t even a chance to tell him goodbye!” He felt a hand caressing his short hair. “That’s business, mon canard. It has nothing to do with friendship, although, I don’t think it was a good move to form a team. Do you feel like part of this?” “Bwaha? Nooooo! Maybe I am the next one, they sell in winter, because they have to scrape money together for a new record or not-exactly-but-nearly-record deal.” “That’s the problem with your club!” “What do you mean?” “It’s all glamour and sparkling, but not a team. Of course, there a some of your fellows, who take care, but the management doesn’t give a shit, as long as enough shirts are sold and the names are big enough.” “Yeah, but isn’t it the same with all big clubs?” “You are not experienced enough to know, so I will tell you: NO!” Karim raised his head and looked into the dark glistening eyes of the guy next to him. “Let me demonstrate! When was the last time, you felt content and satified with your world?” “My world?” “Yes!” The young man hesitated. He hadn’t expected this conversation to turn into a philosophical lesson. “Uhm... I don’t know? Maybe... maybe when we won la Liga?” “You don’t know. You see!” “What?” “Look, I’m happy, because I can sit here next to you with a nice cup of café au lait and have this little talk. I’m happy, because we’re going to play a good match, with lots of people, I like. I’m happy, because when I come home, I will be welcomed with love. And when I get back to my club, I will be happy, because I feel secure and safe and I love, what I do. I was looking forward for the national team and I’m looking forward to get back home. What about you?” A sudden anger took over Karim’s thoughts. “YEAH, YOU ARE REALLY THE LUCKIEST PERSON IN THE WORLD!” He regreted screaming at the small man next to him immediatly. “I’m sorry. It’s just... Things didn’t turn out well after the european championship. We were kind of blocked, all of us... and now I feel, like I lost my best friend.” The older man hadn’t stopped smiling at the striker. “It’s o.k., I understand your frustration, but first of all, you are so young. You have so much time, so many chances left and the second thing, your friend is not dead. You can call him.” “Nooo, that’s a problem.” “Why?” “It’s nearly impossible to have a conversation with Mesut via phone. He’s not really a talker.” “Yes, I heard that before. One of the guys back home said, he was mentally retarded...” “WHO WAS THAT!?!” “Come down, no use of hitting the roof, now.” “Oh, sorry again, but Mesut is special. First, I thought, he was a bit slow, too. But after I got to know him a little better, I just found him the kindest person, I’ve ever met. And he’s so helpless with his life!” “He seems pretty confident on the pitch...” “Yes, he’s different with a ball at his feet. I never met someone with such a talent for the game and such an inability for life!” “You’re afraid, someone might hurt him, if you’re not there to protect him?” “Look, in Madrid, there was Iker taking care of all kind of administrational stuff, Sergio handling the press, Ángel and Álvaro went shopping with him, I took care of his networking and Sami did the rest. Now he’s all alone!” “What about his family?” “They try! But they never got the problem. He once told me, that they had him tested for something, he couldn’t remember, when he was a kid, but he never came to know the results.” “Well, just to have someone psychologically tested, is not a bad thing. maybe they wanted to know, how to be of better help for him.” “You don’t know them. They never listen. I met them at a barbecue and they don’t even asked him wether he wanted steak or veggies. I tried to talk to his brother and guess what he replied!... He said, if I ask, I won’t get any answer!” “Well, maybe he wouldn’t have.” “Mesut has his own language! It’s not easy to understand, but if you just take the time, you can learn! They know him for so long, they should be able to understand.” “Well, that’s true.” “I’m afraid, he might do something really stupid.” Tears filled the big brown eyes and the older man pulled the striker back into his arms, making the shaved head resting on his shoulders. “Let me suggest something. What if we ask Olivier, Laurent and Abou to look after him, when they go back to London. They are good guys, hmm?” The young man’s face softened a little and he was more relaxed now. “I want to know the same security, you have. As soon as I get the chance, I’ll be off! Oh, what would my world be without you, Franck?” “Less happy, mon canard?”

“I don’t believe, we survived this press conference! Well done, Sami!” Oliver gave the tall midfielder a slap on the back. “Yeah, I feel better after a rest, thank goodness, I was allowed to sleep as long as I needed.” He wanted to say so much more. Things like talking to Per helped, too. I already miss him or I’m gone from there as soon as possible, too. But instead he just added, “Was it really necessary to make them believe, this transfer was kind of planned. Just, who would believe, look at the entries at facebook and the tweets of his team mates...” “You have to think bigger. Imagine, you are a Gunners fan.” Oliver paused for a moment as if he expected the midfielder to close his eyes or something similar. “Imagine, you are really excited, because your club finally has bought a big star, someone you can hope get your club up high, where you believe, it belongs... Your club has just spent a big bunch of money for hope and then you get to know, that this little guy was nearly forced to sign this contract, had to be carried away from his former club, because his feet didn’t move, that he never wanted to leave the other town and what’s even worse, that he doesn’t like to be at your so much beloved club! Let’s make things as easy as possible for all participants.” “But... what if Mesut can’t stand these high hopes?” “At least, you shouldn’t be afraid of this. Remember what happened after Mourinho made him Real’s number ten?” “He played his best season so far...” “You see, as long as the high hopes don’t include shouting at him, it feels like trust for him and this is, what he needs!” “But whoever saw his interview, must know...” “No Sami! Most people don’t know him at all and little people know him well and I guess, right now, no one knows him as good as you do. Most people will be satisfied with the video. So let’s come to the things that matter. Can he play as if he’s fine?” And with this words the manager turned to Joachim. “Hans-Wilhelm told me, he seemed in a physically good condition, but...” “I knew it. There is always a BUT...” “But he stopped talking again and he falls asleep, if you leave him alone for more than four minutes and twenty three seconds.” “So, you will test him during the next practise?” “Yes and I will have the complete offence to keep an eye on him.” “You see, Sami. We’re getting him back on the horse and I am sure, he still knows how to ride.” “And if not, he can still have some cake with me!” The man in the lobby was a surprise to all of them. “Bastian! I thought you were on holidays, I’m sorry... rehab...” “The blonde midfielder smirked at Oliver’s comment. “Let’s say, I heard something about a very dear boxer, that got punshed in his face and was knocked down. So now I’m here to help Rocky with his revenge.” Sami smiled. Seing Basti around, was indeed a relief. “But Thomas said, you were visiting a little village in Lower Bavaria, where they serve the best Sachertorte of the world... And you refused, bringing some back with you for him.” “Maybe, the cake wasn’t as good as I remembered, or maybe I have other things to do right now, than ruining my shape by ignoring my diet...” He winked at the coach and the manager, while walking back to the rooms with Sami. “Is it as bad as it looks like?” “I don’t know, I haven’t seen him, yet. Are you still working on that gunpowder recepy? I could use it back home?” It was an old in-joke, if Basti had used a kitchen, it looked like a bomb had blown up. “Sorry to correct you, it’s not gunpowder, it’s Marillenknödel and in your state, you shouldn’t be armed with them.” “What do you mean?” “Manu called me.” “So?” “I told him not use the Bat signal, if it was not a threat of life and death!” “What happened?” “Stop kidding Sami! Philipp said, you guys were getting along...” “Yes, we do?!?” “It’s close to the last sentence he says, when he’s freaking out.” “What is his last sentence?” Bastian made sure, no one else was looking or listening, before he pulled his brows together and switched his voice two tunes higher into a whining, nosy noise. “But...but... we are one team!” In a second he was back to normal again. “You see? But now I’m here. Just relax, I will do the rest...Holy shit! This is not good!” “Basti?” “Except I get killed by... LUKAS!? Why are you her, I thought you were still in England... If I knew...” “Yeah, you wouldn’t have left at all.” And the striker pulled the blonde midfielder into a brutal looking hugg.

*****

“He said WHAT?!!! You told me, it would be an easy business and they get along...” The Italian paced the office. “They will calm down... After our first victory they will. It’s of little matter! Just give them an answer for the goalkeeper question and they’ll shut up! We could use the newspaper, too! People are easy to believe, what they want to...” But Florentino Pérez had underestimated the complete situation. He had no insight into Sergio’s feelings and no idea of Cristiano’s will and he was absolutely unaware of the direction from where the attack would come... Networking can be a dangerous way of spending your time, but in some cases it can save lives!


	3. After the match is before the match

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back home, everyday life sucks. Cris is angry, Xabi and Iker stunned, Sami patient and Sergio in tears... While Mesut tries to get used to his new environment, in his own, very special way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I go on with this dark-side tale... This is no bedtime story and I'm still depressed about the whole situation, but I promise, a ray of light in the chapter after this one... or the one after that... I'm sorry! Please tell me, what you think of it, because your comments make my day! And if you find any misspelling... ;-) blame Pérez!

„But do you think it’s a good idea?“ Philipp rubbed his eyes tiredly and waited for his coach to aswer. “Well, it looked tightly arranged on the pitch to me.” “Sami is not in a good condition, I talked to Per and he said, it had been the same with him back then. It’s like a curse. I mean, think about it. We all know the business. You play for a club and then you stay or you transfer... It’s not a big deal... under normal circumstances!” “It could be worse.” Oliver entered the conversation. “Think back, do you remember, when Mesut left Bremen? This complete team changed a bit after that. Now it’s only affecting ONE of our players... and I hope a lot of Spaniards!” “Oliver is right, Philipp. It is a good thing. Sami will be over it soon and Per, Mesut and Lukas will form a well-coordinated line from defencive to offencive.” “But Per told me, it took him more than a year to get over it...” The coach and the manager exchanged glances. “This sounds kind of strange, indeed. Maybe Sami should have a longer talk with the psychologist.” “I don’t think it’s because Sami is labile or... Well think about it, Per is like a zen-master. He never loses his nerve and Sami is not well known for...” “Philipp, relax! Everything will turn out well, as long as Mesut doesn’t give Sami a reason to worry. We all know their... special relationship, Sami cared for Mesut for the last three years and he did very well. Of course, he is used to being needed 24 hours a day, but it’s also a chance for him... to find a new focus in his life. I’m sure his girlfriend will find a way to fill the empty space.”

”How does it feel to be unwanted?” Marco and Mesut looked up from their breakfast at the surprise guest. “Mario, I thought you were injured?” “Yes, but I live in this town, so I thought about comming over and wish you luck for the next victime-opponent. Let’s see if fisheye can do his faked magic against a fifth-rate team. A third-rate had been too strong for our most expensive player.” Mesut had never liked the small, always grinning midfielder, but he had never said or done anything against him, too... as far as he remembered. This open aggression was more than he could cope with and once again he wished to be as silver-tongued as Sergio. He looked around. There would be no help from Marco, who was still a little afraid of his former team mate’s sharp tongue. Most of the players had already left the breakfast room to get their bags packed and he was sure, he was not able to reply anything witty himself. If he didn’t want to end up thinking about Mario’s words for the rest of this week, he would have to find a way out fast, but the small, tanned midfelder held his chair firmly at place and Mesut didn’t want to be impolite to Marco and he had not finished his breakfast... “When I heard the news, I was really sorry for you, but I guess, you’ve seen it comming... You have never been good enough for a big club like Real...Hoooo!” A brawny hand grabbed Mario’s collar and lifted the guy very easily. The dark eyes widened, when he found, who he had to deal with now. “Looks like someone is steaming with jealousy!” There was no sign of friendliness in Lukas’s voice and his famous, sunny grin had given way to a grimness, Mesut had never seen before in the striker’s face. “I will release you now, but if you don’t disappear in about three seconds, I’m going to break you in half! Got it?” Mario nodded and proved again, why Philipp had been relieved, the midfielder had not been nominated this time. The small guy was a troublemaker, but all hat and no cattle as Basti said. Lukas took a seat and grabbed a roll. While Mesut and Marco kept staring at the new arrival, the broad-shouldered man started spreading Nutella on one half of his roll. But he didn’t start talking until he took a big bite and chewed around his words happily. “You will love London! The city is like nothing I’ve ever seen...” He stuffed more of the bread into his mouth and went on. “The fans are the best in the world and the team is really nice. Don’t dare to think, you ain’t wanted or needed! We’ve been waiting for you! And I need you over there! I missed you.” He winked and guzzled the last piece of his roll. For a moment there was no sound but Lukas’s munching. Then he gulped noisy and turned to Marco, pointing his finger on the Dortmund player’s plate and chuckled “Are you going to eat this or can I have it?” Both younger men instinctively reached out for their plates and held them tight.

“This is the high point! Do you really believe, I said that? TO THE PRESS!!!! I’m a pro and you told me, not to say a thing! So I kept my mouth shut, I even went for this stupid fotoshoot on the parking lot... I am all politness with this new toy of yours, although my ears are still bleeding, because he cannot shut the fuck up for five seconds, BUT what you did is a confession of failure... Of course the mass is stupid enough to believe this bullshit Marca-campaign, but I swear, you’re playing with fire... It was a prove of your stupidity to... to...” “Cristiano, please. I said, I’m sorry. Of course it’s ridiculous to believe, you would criticise our deals in public. Please, come down and...” “If you think, it’s done with a simple ‘ooooh, I’m soooo sorryyy!’, you’re surprising me even more! Don’t think, this is going to work! This is all a big bubble and if you don’t draw the consequences soon, I’m going to force you myself!” “Are you trying to threaten me?” Florentino’s voice was no more than a low hiss. The striker in front of his desk hesiteted for a moment and his face showed an earnest expression. Cristiano was thinking about the last words and he took his time, but then he went on much more calmly. “Would it make any difference?” The president chuckled and shook his head. “You really had me for a moment. Let’s find a way to get you satisfied soon. Maybe we can talk about a bonus for every victory from now on? Or even a higher wage in general, as soon as you renew your contract.” And he laughed hearty at the situation. How could he have thought, an uneducated athlete, would be a menace for his business? This boy’s vanity was a bit wounded, but he had dealed with egocetric dummies before and he knew, how to handle them. It was all about money, no more, no less! Florentino Pérez was so content with the end of this conversation, he missed, he was the only one laughing...

“I don’t believe, we survived this trip.” Pepe shook his head. “He really did put on a big show... Pretending, nothings wrong, when he’s on the pitch and in public, but we have seen him different. He even scared our coach!” Xabi nodded. “Wow! And he got away with it... Well, I’m sorry to say, but without him, you guys would have sucked... He might have scared the hell out of you, but it made you run faster.” “It’s not a secret...” Fábio joined the conversation. “His will is the key to Brazil. I really thought, he might eat someone in the locker room after the first half. He was steaming. Have you heard, he flushed Pepe’s mobile!” “What?” “Yes, Ricky called me and said, Cris didn’t answer his phone, so I went over and gave him mine, I thought, Ricky could bring him back to his senses, but he just went to the bath room and flushed my mobile!” “And now he’s upstairs again. Do you think this is a good sign?” Fábio asked. The red headed midfielder tilted his head. “Well, maybe, if he manages to find a way, to talk things over with the boss, it wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen... Sami?! How was your flight?” The tall German had just entered the room and dropped his bag, but he didn’t answer, shrugged his shoulders, made an unsecure wave with his right hand and lowered his gaze, before leaving the room in an obvious hurry. “Oh shit! This doesn’t seem too good.” Pepe couldn’t hold back. “Yes, and I’ve seen this reaction before on someone else today. Sergio is like a shadow... We have to do something or the next match will be a catastrophy. Let’s see, how the coach deals with this and if he doesn’t solve it properly, we can stick our heads together again!” Xabi replied. “What about Iker? Is he better after the match?” Fábio turned to the Spaniard. “He was busy talking to Sergio and it was no use in disturbing him with this task... We phoned after the match and he sounded satified, but he told me, he was worried, so, you see... We have to wait for a moment, but while this, we should go downstairs or we might miss practise.  
Carlo was staring at the sad and tired players, that stumbled onto the pitch. At least, most of them were in time. Just one still missing... he cursed Cristiano and his diva-like behaviour. He would have to make things clear for everyone, he would not tolerate any indiscipline. The striker might be important for the team during a match, but he would not have any special treatment from the training crew. Acelotti was about to ask Zidane, if Ronaldo had been late before, but to his surprise, the Frenshman was missing too... He had been called for a serious talk with his boss about what to say in public and what not. Carlo was disapointed. Pérez had promise him a highly professional and motivated team. Not a bunch of overpaid divas. And he was ready to give the biggest of them a ‘warm’ welcome, when Cristiano stepped out on the pitch. “So, what reason could be so important for you to miss my practise?” The Portuguese turned his head in slow motion. “I had an important conversation with the boss. I guess, you remember the guy, that pays your sallary, too?” Karim could hardly supress the laughter. He had been thinking all day about his plans for the future and he wasn’t used to torture his brain that much. He had ended, having a headache, but this power struggle between Cris and the new coach was a good distraction. “Nothing in this universe can be that important, to be late for practise and to make sure, you got me right, you will stay and prove, you understood!” The Portuguese striker lifted one eyebrow. “First, get to know your team and their habits. I always stay longer for some extra exercises. And second, I’m sorry to say, that today is a ‘very special’ occasion...” He obviously imitated the Italian accent, which made the older man’s face slowly turning deep dark red. “...my son is sick and I’m going home as early as anybody else. You see, there are a lot of things more important than your precious practise!” “IN THIS CASE; YOU CAN GO NOW AND YOU WILL NOT BE TOLLERATED HERE TOMORROW!” Cristiano just shugeed and turned to go back to the locker room. He was completely aware of the whole team staring at his back. He didn’t turn and he didn’t show any sign of regret, staying as calm as before. Marcelo was the first to break the silence. “At least he speaks again.”

Xabi had forced Iker and Marcelo into his apartment. “We need to talk about this...what happened today. What do you guys think of these methods?” “I read in the internet, one of us had called Carlotti ‘everybody’s friend’... I never believed, anyone said it!” Marcelo had stopped smiling. “I don’t think, this will end up well, but I do admit, Cris is behaving like a cow!” Iker sighed on this remark. “What has he done this time except being unprofessional during practise?” “He scared the hell out of Gareth and this kid really admires him... Maybe he talks a bit too much... I’ve seen Cristiano’s eyelid twitching for the first time this morning on the parking lot. I think, he could hardly prevent himself from punshing the kid...” “So scaring him, wasn’t the worst thing, he could have done. Now back to the coach...” But Iker interupted the defender harshly. “Sergio is drinking again.” Both other men stared at the goal keeper for nearly two minutes. “I haven’t caught him, but he’s acting like back then, when he was nearly breaking under the pressure, they’ve put upon his shoulders.” The defender hardly trusted his ears. “When was that?!” “After he transfered to Madrid. He was just a kid, living his big dream and then they paid 27 million for this 19 year old boy! It nearly broke him and he started drinking... Smiles and jokes for the cameras and a tear for the sad clown... I remember it well... He was too loud and too quiet... and he had big problems in concentrating and..” “Iker? If you are right, we have to help him fast, we can care about this wally of a coach later. Do you think, we have to get his krytonite?” “No Xabi! Nando is a viper! I won’t have him into this...” “Fernando is a sweet darling and I was not talking about him.”

“Why am I not allowed to call him?!” Karim, I told you before, I tell you again!” Sami looked tired. “Do we agree, that we all like Mesut?” Karim, Álvaro and Ángel nodded. “I absolutely understand you miss him, but it would make things much harder for him. In about two days, he will have forgotten about you guys and...” “That’s ridiculous!” The Argentine stiker with with the big ears shook his head. “Don’t tell me he had problems in remembering his German team mates during internationals...” “No, but he will forget, how close we were, and this is the best thing to happen, he will be free from us and can cast his magic on others and...” “SAMI! I don’t believe you! Two weeks ago we’ve been having a FIFA-tounament and this PS-battle took a complete night and now you tell us, he won’t know us in two days?!” The tall German midfielder closed his eyes, before he replied. “I know, this sounds strange, but please remember, Mesut is not like a normal person, he... he’s always been special. He needs different things... He will remember your names and faces in a week again, but not how close you were...” “BUT I DON’T WANT HIM TO FORGET ME!” Karim screamed. “IT’S UNFAIR!” “Please Karim, don’t contact him... It’s hard enough for us... And we are still here and have each other. Imagine how he might feel...” “Horrible, if we refuse to have any contact with him.” “Álvaro, I try agian! He has people, who care for him now. He won’t need us. And for God’s sake please don’t go on torturing me with this!”

Eyes open! It’s already day? Oh, am I late? Where is my watch... Why is the bedside table on the wrong side... This is not my bed! Breath... In-out-in-out... No need to panic, I’ll just get up, get dressed and go home. O.k. my pants are on the chair and there’s my shirt, just get finished and go! Second thought... Where is the bath room? No, that’s a closet... Uhm, a TV room, wow whoever lives here must be quite rich... Aaah, the toilet... O.k. better! Now, out of this! Uhm, which door? Bwah, this is the uglies kitchen, I’ve ever seen... I cannot get, why people like all this glas and steel thingies in there flats, it looks like a factory, not like a home... Wow, this is a big living room, hmmm, the sofa looks uncomfortable and no pillows or blackets? Where am I? Ah, this looks like the way out... FUCK! It’s locked! Don’t panic, there must be a key somewhere... No, no...no and no! O.k., what about plan B? Somebody must live here. At least this person can let me out and tell me if... Did I get knocked on my head? I can’t remember... Is this a rehab centre? But no one here... A guest room! Somebody used this bed, but again nobody here. If I was concussed, they wouldn’t have left me alone... I don’t have a headache... No, I have not been knocked out. Shit! Don’t panic! Breath... In-out-in-out... How did I get here? Well, I found the kitchen, I could have breakfast first... I’m not hungry! But at least, I should have something to drink... So where is the fridge? I don’t like kitchens, where you cannot tell from the outside, if it’s a cupbord or... a microwave... Ohh, whoever-lives here has cocoa! And here is the fridge... Milk, a cup, a spoon... Hmmm! Better!...What’s that? Hmmm? Looks like my ipod... Yep, definitely, my playlists! Good I found it, before I left... Maybe I should call some help. Where is my mobile? MY MOBILE?!!!! Don’t panic! Did you wear a jacked yesterday? Shit! I don’t remember! Maybe there’s a coat hook near the entrance... Yes, my sweatshirt... Hmmm? No mobile... Back to the bedroom... Where am I? That’s an ugly flat... The carpets look scartchy... Maybe I can climb out of a window... “WHAAAAAAA!” Something moved under the blanket! “Hallo?” Oh my goodness, it’s just a dog... “Hey cutie, didn’t mean to frighten you...” and a second one... “Hey darling, can you show me the way out? Oooooh, you are a sweetie” This bed looks comfortable and I’m soooo tired... Maybe I should just....

“How long does he act like this Mutlu?” “The whole day, he gets up, runs around, opens every door and searches whatever and gets more and more paniced. In the end, he forgets his filled cup in the kitchen and ends up sleeping again, untill he gets up and...” “Have you tried to interrupt him?” “Yes, of course... It turned out worse! He ignored me, but became so afraid, he tried to call the police, but...” The darkhaired man was fighting to keep his composure. “He spoke Spanish!” “Wow, what a new, sad peak!” “Per! I phoned you, because I thought, you could help! I don’t know, what to do with him. Dad said, I must take care of him, but I can’t! He’s freaking me out!” “That’s bullshit!” “WHAT?!” “He’s fleeing, because he’s too afraid of reality and you tell me, he’s freaking you out? That’s no help! And no surprise...” The tall defender murmured on. “It’s been the same back in Bremen and Madrid!” “What are you trying to say?” The tension between the two men visuable. Mutlu already thought about his chances in a fight. He had been in one or another brawl and the blonde looked slow and stiff, but he although knew, that this guy was a trained athlete, a guy, who did his work out every day and, as all defenders, Per was tough (and not to forget, nearly two metres tall!). “You guys would have sold him to the devil, if the price had been high enough. Have you even asked him, what he wanted?” “You should know, he never gives normal answers and he doesn’t know, what’s good for him, he’s just too...” “Don’t you dare to use this word!” The footballer’s voice turned low, his fists clenched so hard, his knuckles turned white. “Don’t you dare to repeat this! We had that talk before, remember back in 2008? It’s a pitty, you’ll never know, what he’s able to give you back, if you find a way into his world. But you are too bullheaded to...” Too much! Head foreward the German Turk started the brawl and found himself outside the apartment, before he could even think. The defender had moved too fast for Mutlu. He was just about to get in again, when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. “Don’t you think, you would be a better help, if you were in another condition, let’s say, more peacefully!” Mutlu knew, he had been tricked, but he knew, that he would never be able to fight this big, grinning striker in front of him. “Come, let’s have a cup of tea... Or cocoa, if you’re more like your baby brother...”  
Per looked out of the window, untill he saw Lukas and Mutlu disappear around the corner. Then he recalled his plan. Step one: get rid of the harasser? Done! Now to step two... He turned his head and found the kid sleeping uneasily. A sigh escaped his lips. Why did he have to go through this again? But he knew his tactics and it had already worked twice. Slowly he sat down next to the boy on the bed and reached out to stroke the soft dark hair. If he admited, he had missed this little one (most of his team mates looked quite small next to Per) a lot. He remembered, how worried he had been, when he heard the boy was about to leave for Madrid and he remembered the whole it had left in his life... Dealing with Mesut required a lot of time and attention, but this kid rewarded whoever dared to be patient and careful enough, to enter his shell with undevided affection, a smile like a sunny day and a heart of gold. Not to forget absolute loyality in private and on the pitch. The defender smiled sadly, he felt sorry for this boy, who was taking everything so hard, always with his guards down... and as he closed his long arms around the shivering midfielder, pulling him into a close cuddle, he felt sorry for Sami, who was now at the same spot, where Per had been three years ago... With a Mesut-shaped whole in his life. The tall man smiled a little. Sami would leave Madrid as soon as possible. You cannot stay at a place, that reminds you of this gift in his arms... He tilted his head and kissed the pale forehead and started the mantra. “ I’ll take care of you. Don’t be afraid, I’m with you...”  
Only half an hour later Lukas was back, chatting as ever. “I brought Mutlu to my place, he seemed kind of happy, we’re taking care and he was out of this! I don’t get it, Per! If Mesut was my baby brother, I would spend each second cuddling him... second thought! I am happy, he is not my brother! Can I hold him for a moment? Sami said, the first hours are forming...” “Yes, they are, that’s the reason, why you can’t have him now. By the way, he gained weight! Or I was stronger back in Bremen...” “...I can help you, just let me...” “Noooo! The coach will be here in a moment, and you will be kind and let him in.”

Sergio stared at the screen. He could hardly bare the look on this guy’s face. Broad shoulders and a wide grin in a grey sweater leaning his head against Mesut’s. Sergio knew exactly, what this new team mate was up to! He knew this look, because he had seen it in hundreds of fotos of himself. He poured himself another glass of red wine and downed it in one go. His head was already spinning, but still his chest felt so tight, he could hardly breath...


	4. Sell your soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last five weeks brought Cristiano close to a breakdown... But who would ever believe him, now he had signed this record-breaking contract?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I did not give up this me against reality-thing, yet! I just had no time to write my ideas down... So I had to skip a lot of stuff, because a lot of things had been happening. (Arsenal leading Premier League, Real sucking in La Liga, Cristiano playing like he could win each game with his pure will, Gareth injure and moving into Mesut's old house in Madrid...) Please tell me what you think of my version of what really happend if you like it, and if you don't like it... BLAME PEREZ! ;-)

Cristiano stared at his smiling face on the TV screen. He was still in a state of shock, but he had stopped vomiting by now. Only this single time, he had allowed himself to let his guards down, only this time... He couldn’t believe the bastard had played that dirty, it had been a trap and he had been caught. Now it felt like a heavy stone rested on his chest. He would die about this, he would go to hell for that, but he was convinced to take the culprit with him. He grabbed his mobile and dialed the number, he had programmed a day before. “Fernando?” “Cris?” I told you not to call me... My wife will be here in a minute and...” “Don’t wast your breath, whore! I have no idea, what benefits you get for this, but I’ll have you burning and believe me, I’ll make it really slow!” “WHAT!? Have you lost your brain or are you drunk? What are you talking...” But the Portuguese had already hung up.

“Gareth?” The Welsh turned to the Spanish defender happy, someone was talking to him at last. It had been a big surprise, most of this guys, players he admired so much, seemed hostile or more than frosty. This team, he had desired to be part of was not as kind as he had dreamed it to be, but maybe he had been wrong, because this guy, a real cool one, soemone the younger ones looked up to, what was his name again?... Ramos smiled widely at him, now. Maybe these guys just needed a moment to get used to his presence... “Hey, Bale! I’ve seen, you and your little family moved into the house right next to me?” OMG! This Ramos-guy was about offering help, Gareth was sure about this. “Yes, but my wife isn’t happy about it.” “What’s wrong with it?” “Well, the furniture... kind of old fashioned. We prefere a modern style, glas and steel, and this looks like, well... Is something wrong?” The Spaniard’s face had been freezing during the last sentences. “I just wanted to give you a good advice. Look, this place is special to me. Before you appeared here, a very dear friend of mine lived in this house and I can tell you, I never heard soemone complaining about his taste before and, what I wanted to tell you from the beginning...” The wide grin was back on the defender’s face, but it didn’t look warm or kind at all now. In fact it was kind of evil, when Sergio raised his voice to make sure the complete team and the coaches were able to hear his verbal deep hit. “Gareth, I have the habit of taking my first coffee sitting on my balcony and I did as every day this morning.” The striker stared at the older man, he was unable to move or speak. “Please be so kind, if you turn this place from a home into a stylish ice-house, start with some jalousies in the bathroom. I am not willing to have my morning coffee in doors, just to prevent me from seeing you and your ugly wife having morning sex in the shower.” Gareth could have said something witty like ‘Maybe you can learn from us.’ or ‘From the first time I saw you and your shirts, I knew, you had no tast at all.’, but the laughter of the guys around him and the awareness, his wife had just been more than offended, his inability to use the new language as good as this asshole in front of him, combined with the frustration, his new teammates behaving like mercanaries... Gareth lost his nerve. His fist flew foreward, well aimed, directed to Sergio’s nose, but the defender must have expected an attack after his provocation. He moved fast to the side and drove his knee up, hitting the Welsh’s thigh hard. But the sharp pain it caused, was nothing compared with the following words, the defender whispered into the striker’s ear... “Don’t dare to believe, you and your little family will ever be happy here, now you’ve proven, that you don’t deserve this house... Go ahead, wipe away every trace of it’s fromer tenant, but he will be like a ghost, haunting all of us...” “RAMOS!” Iker screamed dragging him literally away from the shocked Welsh striker.

“I don’t believe, this is the same boy, that was unable to stay awake for more than five minutes.” Arsène laughed. “He already knows the speed of everybody... It’s unbelievable!” “I told you he’s worth every penny!” Per was back in practise, now that his back didn’t hurt any more from carrying Mesut like a child. For the public they had invented some sickness, because the truth would have been hard to believe, after watching Mesut play, like he had been part of this team for years. “I am happy, he feels home already, And the complete team has kind of adopted him, but we have to find a new place for him soon. He said he hated the furniture and the view and...” “We’re already preparing something for him.” The Frenshman smiled at the tall German. “Do you think he will like the games we play?” And this time Per’s smile grew wide! “No, he won’t like them... He’ll love them! Shall I pepare the pitch?” The older man nodded slowly. He was very content with his work today and the promise of a successful season.

There was a long and awkward break in their conversation, before Roman continued to speak. “So you say, you used one of my boys to force this idiot to sign the contract? Which one? And... If you decided to blackmail him, why did you have to stuff that much money down his throat?” “Well, it’s part of my plan, no one would ever believe him, he didn’t sign free willing... Oh, and I caught him on camera with one of your Spaniards.” “Which one?!” Florentino was so overexuberant about this signing, he missed the changing of the tune on the other side of the phone. “Your luckless striker. That Atletico boy...” “And again... You got him on camera, making out with Cristiano Ronaldo? How did you get that video?” “Oh, it was quite easy! They’ve been at a party and then in the same hotel room... My company had installed cameras, back then, when the building was made and they still function well...” Florentino laughed. “Do you know the best part?” He did’t wait for the Russian to answer. “I told Ronaldo, that he had to score in every game from now on, if he didn’t want me to show this porn to the public. And as you can see, he works to his bones!” “Can I have a copy of the file?” “Why should I give it to you?” “Let’s face it, Florentino, I know enough, to have you roasted in hell, but I don’t want to... So this little file could be a symbol of gratefulness... And I might have a very luckless striker, who needs to be reminded, that he has very long legs for running fast...”

*******

It had been five weeks now, since Cristiano had staged a hell of a show, about how much he wanted to stay and play for Real... They had swallow the whole thing hook, line and sinker! Even Pepe bought it! Since then, Cristiano had changed back to his calm and content masquerade, he was wearng for the public. Now he used it for the team, too. No more horrifying Gareth Bale. at least this poor kid had no idea, he had stired up in a hornets’ nest, and Sergio was doing a good job in being cruel, so there was no use in spending any strengh on the Welsh. He needed it for himself. If Cristiano allowed his thoughts to linger a bit too far, he could immediatly feel his heart beating in an uneven rhythm. No, he needed all of his power, but how long was he able to go on like this. He should have never done this, but... His memory wandered back to this night...

Irina had called him early. “There’s a party in Madrid and I will go there with you!” It was part of their pact. He accopanied her to whatever, smiled and flirted with her, made sure, she was able to meet all the important people and she silenced his critics, calmed his mother and sisters and stopped that endless rumours about him being gay. That’s how they started... But after three years of dating and behaving like a happy couple, a deep feeling of faith and friendship had grown between them. Cristiano was looking forward for her visits, because Irina was the only person he confided his biggest secret to. They shared one bed, but they never made love. He had told her again and again, she was the most beautiful woman, he had ever seen and he ment it, but... (There’s always a but!) she was a woman, and he would never be able to desire her, like he had desired men. He had never told anybody but her, he never had sex, because he was afraid of being caught and he knew, his mother would never understand... She would find her ways to finish him off and she would take the child away from him and he was sure, this would be his death...  
(my dear reader, of course I know, that Cristiano’s son was not literally heaven sent, but the guy is very rich, he might be able to find a way,... let’s imagine a surrogate mother and a test-tube fertilisation...)  
And then he met this guy at the party. This Spaniard with the dark eyes and a togue like a razor blade. He had been in flames after a second and he remembered all the little stories, Sergio never got tired to tell about Fernando Torres. Before he knew, what he was doing, he had found himself alone with the guy in one of the empty rooms of this hotel, where the party took place. He had breathed Fernando in and he had pushed him onto the matress, feeling these endless legs closing around his hips. It had been much too long, since he had allowed himself to toss off and the Spaniard smelled much too good to be true. He rememberd how tight Fernando had been around his pulsing rod and how desperately he had thusted, while they both tried to surpress the moaning and groaning. It had been only a short moment of weakness, but it had been enough to make him vulnerable. And now he had reached the end of his strengh. Reality dragged him back to his miserable situation and still in a half dreamy state, Cristiano grabbed his mobile and dialed the first number, that came into his mind.  
”I remember, I told you, I’ve retired.” The mixture of Scottish and Mancunian dialect calmed him a little “Alex? I... I need help.” “With what? If you need an idea, how to spend your nearly pervert income, there’re plenty of poor people in the world...” “But it’s not about the money, it’s the contract, he said...” “You’re still ‘sad’? This sum should be enough, even for a glutton like you’ve become... I hardly know you any more...” Critiano hung up. It was a hopeless case. This devil’s contract provided him with too much money... Who would ever believe him. There was no way out. He was able to hear the blood rushing in his ears and the slight dizziness, that tortured him since this morning exploded in his head and made the room spinning round. A severe crying fit was shaking him so hard, he hadn’t heard someone entering his living room. As gentle hand started stroking his hair carefully, he look up, finding the kindest brown eyes, promising everything would turn out well. And for a short moment he alowed himself to believe it, before he sank down on his knees ready to confess everything, wishing to find absolution.

“Iker? How long are we going to wait?” The goalkeeper was surprised. “ I never thought of you as impatient, Xabi... But I absolutely understand. Sergio is in a horrible state. Let’s face it, he injured a teammate...” “Iker...” The Basque shook his head. “I was not talking about Sergio. I was talking about this joke of a coach and the guerrilla warfare of your’s...”


End file.
